


Glipses

by goldveines, howdydarlin



Category: All For the Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Abuse Mentions, Alcohol, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Anxiety Attacks, Blow Jobs, First Time, Fluff, Hand Jobs, I'll tag as I go, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Jealous Andrew, M/M, Minyard-Josten Rivalry, Pining, The whole shabang, andreil gets meaningful tattoos, andrew goes back on his medication - that whole thing is filled with manic andrew, looooots of making out, lots of soft!andrew because i'm a weak ass, neck-kink, romantic dancing because I say so, self-harm mentions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-07-29 00:39:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 19,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7663417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldveines/pseuds/goldveines, https://archiveofourown.org/users/howdydarlin/pseuds/howdydarlin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>some one shots that i post on <a href="http://ajminyrd.tumblr.com/">my tumblr</a> about andreil & kandreil.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> theterrorthatflapsatnight said: I need some slow-dancing andreil. Pretty puh- lease.

nicky and erik’s wedding was, surprisingly, not a big event, nor was it extravagant. though, upon closer inspection, it was fitting; erik’s family was in germany and nicky had little family to speak of. as far as the grandeur, nicky wanted nothing more than to finally call erik his. 

the wedding party consisted of most of the guests, which was to say that the foxes were split rather well between nicky and erik. 

the foxes had quickly come to love erik nearly as much as nicky. because of this, it was easy to ask the upperclassmen to join erik’s party. 

to sum it up without drawing it out, the foxes sorted themselves like this: renee officiated, aaron was nicky’s best man, andrew, kevin, and dan following; kaitlyn was erik’s maid/best, neil, allison, and matt following. 

the ceremony was long and emotional. neil split the time between watching the couple and watching andrew.

andrew’s focus was entirely upon his cousin, not seeming the least bit affected by the proceedings. he did acknowledge neil’s stare when they walked back down the aisle, arms linked, with a, “staring, josten.”

when nicky and erik had their first dance neil couldn’t help but get an itch in his fingers. he wanted to reach a hand to andrew (whom was sitting next to him because they did not stick to formal sides at their table) and ask him to dance. 

it was a dumb thing. he knew andrew would say no, and even expected him to sit silently when the wedding party would be called to dance. which is why neil was shocked that, upon this announcement, andrew stood and thrust an annoyed hand at neil.

andrew didn’t let go of neil’s hand as they walked to the small dance floor, quickly filling with the party. he dragged neil as close to the corner of it as he could, stopping when he was satisfied. 

neil didn’t know how these touches could be so exhilarating. he hadn’t danced before, and would be nervous it showed if they had been moving more than the slight shuffle of feet. 

andrew’s arm, the one not holding neil’s hand, was entangled with neil’s own so that it wrapped around neil’s back.

it took half of the song before their foreheads were leaning against one another, breaths the only discernible thing to neil’s ears. 

“i think this is my favorite first.”

neil feels stupid when he says it, even more stupid than getting the itch to dance in the first place. 

andrew’s only response is a nudge of his head, as if he might crane his neck just a little to meet their lips.

the whole thing is stupid. and dumb. and sappy. and most definitely not the character of either of them. maybe andrew only allowed this slip of judgement for nicky and erik’s day. maybe for neil. maybe for himself. 

neil couldn’t begin to wonder what it might be. but for a song they had tripped and landed in a soft place they rarely touched.

\--

“lets go for a drive.”

andrew had said those words nearly an hour ago, and now they sit in a dead car surrounded by the sky and a field. 

neil is the first out, grabbing a cooler from the back seat of the car to accompany him while he waits for andrew. 

driving means tension–something that needs to be released. 

neil starts in on his first beer and finishes it by the time andrew joins him. he had left the keys in the ignition, clicked over enough so that the radio would seep through the open windows. 

they drink in silence until they down the contents of the cooler completely. neil is less than sober as he slinks down into the grass, nudging andrew to join him with his foot. 

andrew makes a ‘tch’ sound but joins anyways. neil shimmies so that their shoulder’s touch and their fingers are sending static touches up one another’s arms. 

andrew lets out a breath finally, one he must have been holding since he first decided they would go for a drive, and turns his head to press a sloppy kiss to neil’s shoulder. 

it’s as much thanks as neil will get for andrew taking him away from a night of exy. neil doesn’t say that he doesn’t mind. 

when some slow pop song comes on the radio (he thinks he recognizes it, but he can’t quite catch it), neil’s inebriated mind blossoms a beautiful idea.

sitting up is full of fumbling and cursing, but eventually he manages. neil stares at andrew until hazel eyes stare at him.

“dance with me.” neil whispers it nearly. 

andrew thinks a moment before getting up and pulling neil with him, saving neil from more stumbling over his own legs. 

it takes a moment to get into a position they both find comfortable for their loose limbs, but eventually find it. andrew’s left hand is tucked within neil’s back pocket, his right spread across neil’s shoulder where his folder arm allows it. neil lets his arms encircle andrew’s shoulders completely, his hands playing lightly with the ends of andrew’s hair.

neil leans on andrew more than anything, and they really sway rather than dance, but it’s pleasant. the song drifts hazily through neil’s ears as he breathes andrew it along with the smell of the earth (which is hard to miss when surrounded by a field). 

by the second chorus, andrew hums along in neil’s ear. 

andrew all but carries neil back to the car when they depart. 

“you like to dance,” neil slurs.

“shut up.”

“i like it too,” he says with a grin, regardless of whether andrew could see it.

“go to sleep, lightweight.”

and neil does.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous said: So i've thinking about Andreil in the gym during Andrew last year in the foxes, maybe Neil taking off his shirt and Andrew trying to make Neil as concius of his body as he's with Neil's. I dont know if this make any sense but i need to try

it might be the best idea of neil’s that they go to the gym on a tuesday afternoon after practice.

andrew has less than innocent thoughts behind going to the gym with solely himself and neil there. it is easy to challenge each other’s strength with other distractions. it is quite hard, however, to do pull ups when his partner is running their hands across the muscles of his stomach.

they spend their time doing what one might–if not looking too closely–consider working out. they start with neil in the roman chair and andrew laying on his back beneath, sharing a kiss when neil returns to the rest position; it’s sloppy and quick because neil is trying to be efficient in his work out. once neil is done with a few sets, they switch positions; andrew is much slower with his reps.

andrew does a few warm up lifts on bench before sending a significant look to neil’s shirt. he needs a better grip than the slippery shirt on neil’s body. it’s not the first time that andrew had ever benched neil, but it is the first time without an audience and a dare.

neil is slow in removing his shirt, letting it slide over his shoulders before bringing it over his head and setting it on the bench beside him.

though neil had exerted himself little, his body’s blood is pumping and it causes the scars on his torso to be a brighter shade of dark. though andrew masks it well, he does not hide the slight parting of his lips. it is a beautiful kind of danger that neil wears–though the stories make andrew’s hands reach for their knives.

neil walks closer to andrew and waits expectantly. andrew reaches for him to press a firm kiss to his mouth before laying on the bench.

it’s an awkward process, getting to the point where andrew can bench a human, but it’s made easier by neil’s small size. it takes complicated leaning and grabs to get into position, but they do.

it’s easier for andrew to grab neil with his back towards andrew’s face because neil is less inclined to bend that way. andrew spreads one palm across the middle of neil’s shoulder blades and another grasped around neil’s thigh, thumb tucked between his legs.

it’s really a workout for both of them–andrew more so–because andrew is benching and neil is using his core to maintain his flat structure.

andrew is on his 6th rep when both of them hear a sharp, ‘christ.’

andrew twists his head towards the doorway to find one of the track kids standing in the door. he is staring at neil’s body, eyes roaming up and down to track the vicious life neil used to live.

andrew’s scowl is enough to send him away rather quickly. it is not fast enough, though, to refrain from the panic that is automatic to neil.

andrew is careful when he puts neil down, moving to sit so that they can share the bench. neil is an inch from touching andrew–an inch that andrew pays attention to. neil is cradling himself in his arms, somewhat calmly, while his fingers dig at his ribs and leave red scratches behind.

‘neil,’ it’s as tentative as andrew’s voice gets, coming out more command than anything.

‘i don’t think,’ neil says, ‘that my scars will ever be okay.’ it is not panic in his voice, but utter calm, which concerns andrew most.

‘they can say fuck all about it, but it means nothing unless you say it does. don’t be stupid. where’s the kid who doesn’t give a shit what the public has to says, who mouths them off like it won’t get him killed?’ andrew is talking like it’s some joke, sarcasm and a sneer evident. 

‘andrew,’ it’s not quite a plead.

‘lay down,’ andrew says as he stands to make room for neil to lay. it’s clear that neil is only semi sure what andrew is trying to do, but he allows it. 

‘yeah?’ andrew asks to make sure that neil knows andrew is about to touch him. to make sure it’s okay. neil nods his affirmation; andrew might not accept that some days, but today he would.

andrew moves to straddle neil at the waist, letting his hands rest softly on neil’s stomach. he doesn’t care that his gaze is a step from reverent, if even that far from.

neil lets his hands rest lightly on andrew’s thighs as he stares at him. at andrew’s hands, which are making slow paths across the scarred tissue of neil’s torso.

andrew leans down slowly, sure to catch neil’s stare as he goes, and starts pressing ghost kisses to past wounds. he is careful with each kiss, as if perfecting each one for every scar.

it’s a positive sign that neil’s thumbs start working back and forth on andrew’s thighs.

andrew moves to kiss neil once on the mouth, hard. ‘you’re beautiful,’ he whispers against neil’s lips, sounding quite silly with the aggression in his voice. he then goes to rest his forehead against the side of neil’s neck, their bodies meeting in the middle.

they sit for a while, breathing in sync with one another and counting heartbeats. the sweat has cooled on their muscles by the time they move to return to the tower and shower.

neil smiles dumbly when he thinks of andrew calling him beautiful.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> skin against skin; aka andreil and i love you (au).

Neil spends free afternoons lazily, a strange concept for someone who did nothing–for someone who spent even their nothings on edge. It’s a Tuesday that Neil grabs his sketchbook and goes to the coffee shop, Andrew coming without asking.

They find a booth and sit across from each other, Neil already taking pencil to paper at the opportunities the nearby windows offer Andrew. 

“Staring,” Andrew says without heart.

“Drawing,” Neil corrects.

They sit, ordering the occasional coffee that earns them their booth and drawing until the sky turns into a rolling gray. It’s sign enough to begin the path to the dorm again. 

They do not miss the rain, nor does Andrew hurry at its presence; Neil would have had Andrew not been slowing their pace, but the blond’s presence is enough for him to table the complaints that rest on his tongue. 

It’s a half-thought that his sketch book would get soaked, so he shoves it as deep into his chest as he can. It does not escape the rain.

Andrew has a loose grip on Neil’s hand, fingers slipping apart and back together with the ease of the rain. Neil’s white shirt is see-through and offering a view of the life that lay beneath it. 

The hallways are soaked as they walk through them, people already having made their escape from the wet afternoon. The dorm is empty of Kevin, who had already gone to the court. It takes one text from Andrew to tell him to room somewhere else for the night. 

Andrew used to think that skin against skin was such a sharp and discordant sound, but Neil made the shrieking cacophony a tune he could hum to–and he did, he hummed to it. 

Andrew sends a low rumble as Neil’s fingers trace down the shadows of Andrew’s body. They take turns chasing after water that dances across their skin. Teeth and tongues and lips. Gasps and moans and hums. 

It’s after a kiss that Neil forces himself to come down from the Andrew-induced high. He holds Andrew in his hands like something breakable, fingers trembling and stroking. His forehead rests against Andrew’s and breathes deep breaths. 

“I love you.”

It’s a whisper and a prayer against the other man’s lips. He completes it with a barely there kiss, nothing more than a ghost.

He talks against Andrew’s lips once more, pleading when he does, “I just-I just needed to say it once.”

Neil doesn’t say that he had never said it before. He doesn’t say that he needed to know what the words tasted like. He doesn’t say that the words taste like blood in his mouth, but he would bleed for this any day. He doesn’t say that his father had beaten the love from his bones, or that his mother had broken the words from his mouth. He doesn’t say that he needed someone to know before it’s too late. He doesn’t say that he needed Andrew to know that–though doubt about this was criminal–he did.

Neil is shaking from his confession when Andrew kisses him. It’s slow and deliberate, which Neil is sure is for his own quaking self’s benefit. It’s consuming, this touch of care; it burns through him.

Andrew makes Neil sit back, allowing no more than his shuddering fingertips to trace the lines of Andrew’s body, and kisses across his skin. He kisses Neil’s fingers. His shoulders. His chest. His ankles. His closed eyelids.

Andrew sends Neil to a place where he floats. His kisses were both hard and gentle, but had now petered to lazy feather touches. It has Neil drifting into sleep, hanging on by the warmth of the body touching him. 

It’s a path that makes it’s way up to Neil’s face that makes him flutter his lids open. A face with hazel eyes and growing pupils and lips parted stares down at him.

“Staring,” Neil calls out.

The response is a kiss with such a fervor that Neil doesn’t–can’t–shut his eyes for it. He instead looks at Andrew, whose eyes are cinched shut, as if kissing Neil is painful. 

When Andrew pulls back, his pupils have grown to saucers and he bares into Neil. His fingers dance between the edge of Neil’s eyebrows and his hairline.

“I. Love. You. Too.”

The words are enunciated by unyielding kisses and spoken so softly that only the hard letters of the words are heard. But Neil can feel them against his lips; he memorizes the feeling.

Andrew fixes in on Neil’s eyes. They mirror the position they had been when it was Neil’s turn to confess: Andrew holding Neil’s face in his hands, foreheads touching, and lips pressed together but not kissing. 

“Just the once.”

He says the words like they are painful to him–painful to love. His face is scrunched in agony and his voice all but screams please. 

Neil manages to nod and say, “Okay.”

Skin against skin used to be such an awful sound for Andrew, but that night he takes solace in it. He tucks Neil into all the hollows he can, clutching to Neil’s chest and pulse against his neck. They drift into the unknown caught in each other’s gaze. 

They never say it again, but both can feel the whispered bearings of hearts on their lips.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> garden by halsey

The vines are tangling and Neil is tripping on them, skinning his knees and palms on the concrete beneath him. 

Before and after are all he knows; before Andrew and after Andrew. He had been starved of ‘after’ his whole life–’after’s are dangerous, but ‘before’s are the most dangerous thing he knows now. 

-

_‘Darling who you praying to?_

_Was anybody answering you?_

_Because I’ve done my part for twelve years now_

_And I can’t seem to get through.’_

The levee in his head broke; the vines had been spilling through ever since. 

-

The boy with the golden halo and darkened eyes told him his _bruised knees are sort of pretty._ It’s a nice way of saying that Neil is not Drake. Neil said _I think your tired eyes are kind of nice._

-

Rooftops were dangerous before. Now they hold smoke and hooded looks and a garden of a boy.

_He said, ‘Darling, what’s it coming to?_

_And have you got a lighter on you?_

_Been trying put these down for ages now_

_But I can’t seem to pull through.’_

Neil finds himself falling into the habit of cigarettes between teeth.

-

They sit in a room and Andrew presses Neil down. Neil can feel carpet rubbing against his arms and nails in his skin. Andrew is whispering to him through kisses.

_‘I really don’t mind if we take our time_

_Cause I’ve got a couple bottles of your favorite wine_

_Cause I’ve got you, yeah, I’ve got you now_

_I’ve got you.’_

-

Baltimore tears him apart; before was coming back to haunt him. Oddly enough, it’s the ever ‘dangerous’ after that saves Neil. 

_‘I think your bruised knees are sort of pretty.’_

_‘And I think your tired eyes are kind of nice.’_

-

Columbia comes and Andrew waters the garden. Neil is choking on it.

_‘I love everything that you’ve got, boy_

_Tell me would you be mine?_

_Be mine, be mine._

_Sick, sweet nothing’s you’re tryna talk, boy_

_Tell me would you be mine?_

_Be mine, Be mine.’_

Neil is spitting out the leaves that clog his throat. Bleeding from the thorns that scratch his insides. 

_‘I think your tired eyes are kind of nice._

_And when I first met you, there was a garden_

_Growing from a black hole in my mind.’_


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> startaconversation said: How about the before, during and after of a Roland hook-up when Andrew has a certain blue eyed boy on the brain instead? ((also, I love your writing! It's getting me through my post-tfc depression))

Halloween. _Fucking Halloween._

—–

Andrew had brought the whole team here because Neil had asked. (He kept telling himself that it was to see the team’s reaction, but part of him knew it was a half-truth.)

Andrew could hear all of their comments about his ‘sobriety’ and ignored them. The Monster would be without his leash tonight and they were interested in the distinction between the two versions of himself. 

When they got to Eden’s Andrew ignored the staff’s looks of surprise at his party’s number, and they let said nothing in return. 

Soon, Andrew was dragging Neil to the bar to wait for Roland to make his way around. 

Once Roland made his way over he, too, was shocked at the numbers among them, “All grown up and making friends? Never thought I’d see the day.”

“I’ll tip you double if you never say such stupid things again,” Andrew said, an innuendo hidden in his words. _I’ll find you later,_ they said.

Roland caught the meaning and grinned as he poured them drinks.

They brought their drinks back to the table and divvied them up. It wasn’t long before the drinks were empty and Andrew left to take care of the tray, Renee trailing behind. It was the second re-fill that Neil trailed behind Andrew instead of Renee. 

Neil was all but pressed to Andrew’s side. How annoying. 

Finally he spared Neil a glance, “Stop hiding. This was your idea; deal with the consequences.”

“It’s not that easy.” _Isn’t it?_ Neil carried on, “I’ve never been in a position where I could get to know people. I know I have to let them in if we’re going to make it through the season, but it’d be easier if they were just names and faces. How have you stayed so disconnected for so long?”

“They’re not interesting enough to keep my attention.”

“Kevin is. So is your brother, apparently.” So are you. “What about Renee?”

“What about her?”

“She’s not interesting?”

“She’s useful.”

“That’s it?”

“You expected a different answer?”

“Maybe,” Neil said, and Andrew could hear the hesitation as Roland showed up to grab their tray. Once he left though, Neil looked again at Andrew and he only smiled in response. How naive. “Most everyone is waiting for something to happen with you two. Even Nicky thinks it’s inevitable. But Renee promised Allison nothing would come of it. Allison said as much to Seth. Why?”

“Does it matter?” _Yesyesyesyes._

Neil shrugged, “Yes? No? It should be–it is–irrelevant, but,” Neil paused. _As it should be. Stop it, Neil._ “I’m just trying to understand.”

“Sometimes you’re interesting enough to keep around. Other times you’re so astoundingly stupid I can barely stand the sight of you.”

—–

Later Andrew found Roland’s eye at the bar and went to the closet where they kept spare materials–mops, chairs, and such–not waiting to see if Roland would take a break. Of course though, he did. 

Roland shut the door behind him and stood in wait. Roland knew better than to move yet. Andrew was on him in moments, teeth snarling in an anger not taken out on a stupid boy. 

Andrew broke the kiss for a moment to look into the other man’s eyes. He was almost shocked to find that they were not a startling blue. He shook the thought from his head and instead brought himself down to his knees, needing to look away from the eyes that were not what he wanted them to be.

His hands were nimble as they unzipped Roland’s jeans and pulled them, along with his boxers, down just enough for his dick to slide free. Andrew let his mouth take Roland apart. There was, however, a part of Andrew that was not in this closet. A part of Andrew was dedicated to the previously shaken thought. 

_A side affect–that’s what he is. When you get sober–for real sober–he won’t even be a thought._

His tongue swirled as he bobbed, and Andrew couldn’t help but see a boy with dark hair and lidded eyes in place of Roland’s. 

Andrew needed this to be over. He needed to leave. Andrew finished Roland off.

His mouth was off Roland and he backed away as he came. Andrew didn’t need a mess to clean up.

“Goodbye.”

Roland didn’t voice the protest he so badly wanted to, knowing what Andrew would do with it. 

Andrew left him with his pants half-down and alone in the dark. Roland didn’t know what he had done and didn’t know if he would ever get an answer. It was better not to ask with Andrew–asking could earn you pain.

—–

Andrew spent the rest of the night smoking an abnormal amount and trying to erase the eyes that illuminated the darkness that his eyes caused every few moments. 

_Fucking Halloween._


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous said: I've seen a couple posts about Andreil hickey's but I always desire more. (Like maybe the team finally noticing Neil's neck fetish because they've worked up to the point where Neil can leave marks or something idk anything) (This is for the prompt thing btw)

One of the problems of having two other roommates is time. Andrew and Neil seemed to find less and less save for going to the rooftop, and only so much could be done with a rooftop in the middle of winter. It was because of this and one other factor that Andrew and Neil spent most of their time ~~less~~ more heated.

The second reason was that these two mangled boys liked to try and use mouths to piece each other together again. 

Andrew was more inclined to leave his mark than Neil; most of the time to hear the reaction crawl its way up Neil’s throat or jerk its way out of his body, some of the time to replace a bad mark with something so much _more,_ and just occasionally because Andrew liked to leave a collar around Neil’s neck. 

In recent times, however, Neil’s marks came more and more often. Neil was always careful to do it just right, trying to ensure another time would come. And each time there was. 

Sometimes Neil would suck on the sensitive part of Andrew’s hip where it met his leg (it made him jerk and Neil couldn’t stop his mouth from finding this spot), but most often he could not hide his true want: Andrew’s neck.

If Andrew let him, Neil would work on his neck until he pushed Neil away. Andrew’s neck was in a near constant state of purples and blues. (Neil didn’t know whether to be shocked or not that Andrew did nothing to hide the marks.)

Allison was the first fox to notice the ring Andrew wore around his neck. 

_‘Christ, Neil. What’d you do to the monster?’_

Neil did not have a response to this and instead shrugged, and she seemed to accept this. 

Aaron and Kevin ignored it, wanting nothing to do with the enigma that was Andrew and Neil. They lived by the ‘Don’t ask, don’t tell’ philosophy, though it was increasingly harder for Kevin seeing as they were growing more open about what they did in front of people. 

Dan and Matt noticed simultaneously and decided Matt would ask Neil about it. This time when Neil was asked what he had done to Andrew, he had an answer.

 _‘I like it there.’_ Simple and blunt, the only way Neil knew now. 

Nicky had not asked Neil what happened, but Andrew.

 _‘Didn’t know you had a kinky boy,’_ he said half-laughing. _‘And a neck-kink, at that. Oh, Neil.’_

Andrew said nothing and rather stared at Nicky blankly until he left the room chuckling. (Nicky did not comment again, but did share a smile with the rest of the foxes when marks would show up fresh.)

The team’s reaction however, was nothing compared to the press.

Though Andrew and Neil had never hidden their relationship from the press, they had never announced it either. But when some genius assigned them press together, there was no hope. The moment their helmets came off, cameras could see near identical marks on the two team members.

Questions were immediate.

_‘Care to comment on the ‘bruises’ on your necks?’_

_‘Neil, does this mean that the rumors are true? Is the Minyard-Josten pairing more alive off the court?’_

_‘Andrew, Neil is the first romantic interest we’ve seen in the press, what does that mean about your relationship’s future?’_

Neil, whom was usually quick to the punch, had nothing to say. This was about Andrew–should Andrew give him a signal he would take the reigns–and he would deal with it how he saw fit. Still, Neil did not expect what came next.

Andrew’s mouth was on Neil’s and even with eyes closed Neil could see the flashes going off.

When the growl came through the back of Andrew’s throat, he pulled back.

_‘No comment.’_


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jostenneil10 said: Andreil, cats, purple hair and too much cake 

There were times when Neil Josten had to separate himself from the part of him that remained the Butcher’s son—his looks. The team had all done their part when asked to—from hiding mirrors, to changing wardrobes, to tackling him with makeovers (mostly due to Allison, but with Kaitlyn, Dan, and Renee’s help as well), to dying his hair.

This need for separation found Neil after a night in Columbia. Andrew and Neil had been drinking, and returned home to call it a night—only after a shower of course. They were a commonly shared thing among the two, spending as much time as the water heater allowed, kissing each other numb.

Too soon, the water was ice on Neil’s back and Andrew was pushing them out of the safety of the tub. Andrew was soon a ghost in the room, leaving Neil in a room of clearing mirrors. He watched as his reflection came into clarity, every inch his father’s son.

Knives were crawling their way around his body and his fingers curled. Breaths came in heavy pants.

It took every ounce of Neil to wrap a towel around himself and make his way to the bedroom where Andrew waited.

Neil gripped the doorway with too much force and not enough. His uneven presence was enough for Andrew to flick his gaze to Neil from where he sat on the bed. Andrew was in front of Neil in an instant, hands curling around his neck weightily.

“We have to go to the store,” was all Neil said. Andrew said nothing to it, his reply in his grabing of clothes from drawers. Andrew helped a shaky Neil into sweats and a startlingly orange hoodie that said ‘MINYARD 03’ on the back. (Andrew did most definitely not do this to remind Neil that his father did not have Andrew, that Neil did. Nope.)

They drove in silence, Andrew’s right hand clutching Neil’s over the gear shift. Even as they got out of the car and into the store, Andrew held onto Neil’s trembling fingers.

Andrew didn’t need to ask what Neil needed to get, knowing the drill from previous times. They made their way to the hair products aisle and stood in front of the hair colors.

“Hm. I think purple,” Andrew said, holding a box to the side of Neil’s face. (Andrew was not doing this to see how it would look with Neil’s eyes.)

Neil hummed in response and tugged him on. The way to the checkout took them past the sweets aisles, and Andrew slipped a cake mix that sat on an end shelf into his free hand. Neil didn’t question it because it was probably the most chocolate cake the store sold. Andrew and his sweet tooth.

Andrew was content and continued their way to the checkout. The lady, Jenn, fed their items down the belt with wide eyes. She recognized them, but said nothing due to the glare that Andrew sent as he passed his credit card. Neil squeezed his hand in quick thanks.

The drive home seemed to be longer than the one to the store and Neil’s gaze continued to find his face in the mirrors of the car, breath hitching every time. And every time Andrew would make a sound of annoyance, effectively ending that particular stare-down with his self.

When they returned to the apartment, Andrew set the bag on the kitchen counter and removed the box of hair dye. He tugged Neil towards the bathroom and shut the door (though no one would come in, it was a sense of safety that they both appreciated). Andrew set the box on the counter then returned to Neil. Andrew kissed him hard, letting his fingers dig into Neil’s cheeks.

It lasted only a moment, Andrew soon pulling back. He let his fingers trail down Neil’s torso until they reached the edge of his hoodie. It was slowly lifted above his head and abandoned on the tile floor. Andrew tugged Neil’s wrist and sat him on the edge of the tub, feet inside it.

Andrew disappeared behind Neil to mix the color, coming back a few minutes later with a towel and bottle of deep purple. He placed the towel around Neil’s neck and angled his head down.

Andrew took his time, running his fingers through the hair unnecessarily as he put the purple in. One mess made and cleaned up later, they waited for the dye to set. Andrew pulled Neil up and let him follow into the Kitchen. He scrubbed at his hands for a good while, futile attempts at cleaning his stained hands—Andrew refused to wear gloves when dying Neil’s hair.

Once he was satisfied with his job, he dried his hands and went to the oven to turn it on. Apparently while they waited for the dye to set, they would bake cake.

The box said fifteen minutes of prep time, but because of the cats skirting their ankles and kisses shared, it took nearly forty. Fat Cat McCatterson certainly lived up to his name, like a dog in his attempts to lick what fell on the floor. Fluffykins was less interested in the food and more in the two men.

Once the cake was in the oven, Andrew and Neil wasted time getting lost in each other. Andrew let careless hands tangle through Neil’s hair, ruining any progress made earlier. Neil was covered in purple hand prints by the time the oven timer went off.

Neil had the only clean hands, so he took it out and checked that the cake was done. It was.

While they waited for the cake to cool, they went again to the bathroom. Andrew left for a moment to retrieve a chair and set it up in front of the sink. Neil sat down without question and Andrew set to work. Deft fingers worked the dye out and soft lips would press themselves occasionally to a part of Neil’s face—his temple, an eyebrow, the side of his nose, and more seemingly odd places that Andrew deemed worthy.

When the dye was out of Neil’s hair, Andrew—nearly gently—began drying the purple mess. The towel, in the end, was covered in purple. 

Andrew left Neil to the mirror alone as he went no doubt to his cake.

Neil stared at someone who was something of the Butcher’s son, but could not be. None of this said he was the Butcher’s son, from the purple hair, to swollen lips, to colored hand prints, to Andrew’s hoodie that still lay on the floor.

When Neil decided that this was good, he joined Andrew in the living room. Andrew had already cut the cake and sat on the couch eating, cats sitting at his feet. Neil came to sit next to him, thighs touching and shoulders crushing. Neil could taste the sweetness on Andrew as they kissed.

This was not the Butcher’s son.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous said: andreil working up to andrew giving neil consent to touching him?!?!

Andrew was a complex thing with lines that (as he had promised) Neil was mapping out. The two had very opposite yet similar philosophies: Neil was always yes until it was no and Andrew was always no until it was yes. Neil needed to find the places Andrew would say yes to and Andrew needed to find the places he could give yes to. It was a long and (though Andrew would deny it) emotional process.

While neither boy was gentle (except when they were), fast was not the word for them either. Sometimes it would be months before it was okay to give more—to take more.

It took the better part of two months to let Neil touch him while Andrew touched himself. It started with the pads of fingers pressed hard to his sides, just being present. Slowly, Andrew would move Neil’s hands lower, giving only an inch or so each time.

Once, as Neil’s hands went to find the skin that Andrew had given the time before, his hands were stopped. _“Yes.”_

It didn’t click for Neil, “Wha-” He was cut off.

 _“Yes,”_ Andrew said with a squeeze of irritation and a significant look.

_Oh._

Neil was slow and Andrew growled at him, but did not tell him to speed up. It was raw and Andrew didn’t talk to him for hours after, but it was good.

Neil was learning more and more parts of Andrew. When a touch was new, he would tremble beneath Neil, but not tell him to stop. Sometimes Neil learned the hard way when he had taken too much, but never did Andrew stop letting Neil try.

It took only a week for Andrew to learn that he liked Neil on his knees in front of him, though the process was still painstakingly slow, starting with kisses around him—thighs, hips, stomach—and ending with Neil swallowing him whole. (Andrew thought it was beautiful.)

Neil always wanted to grab something when he kissed Andrew, and this was problematic at first. It started with the head, allowing Neil to grip his hair or cheeks. Neil was eventually allowed to let his hands loose on Andrew’s chest, at first only to sit there and soon to cover every inch. It took nearly 6 months for Andrew to allow Neil to palm at his ass. (The first time Neil did, Andrew groaned into Neil’s lips and bit down. Neil thought it was heavenly.)

The first time they had sex was too much. Andrew kept saying yes and Neil kept going, asking a million ‘Is this okay?’s along the way. Andrew did not chastise him however, and answered every time. Sometimes Neil would have to slow down so that Andrew could adjust. The whole time Andrew shook, but Neil said nothing. He gave Andrew complete control in the end. (It would not have happened any other way. Andrew needed to be in control and Neil knew it.)

When they were spent, Neil held Andrew’s hands in a tight grip and kissed him until the tremors left his body.

It would be months—more accurately nearly two years—until it was nearly normal for them, nearly okay, but they were. They were okay.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you are his home; aka The time Neil gets a tattoo. Andrew might kill him. Subsequently, Andrew gets a tattoo. Neil does not kill him.

For all the foxes faults and disagreements, there was one fact that was indisputable between them: Nathaniel’s birthday is not Neil’s, and they would not celebrate a dead boy’s. This was a decision made by Neil and silently followed through by the team. The 19th of January was just another day. Although–unlike other days–the team didn’t question an action that reeked of pain, they didn’t question if he spent the day drinking, or if he spent it completely alone (especially not Andrew), and they especially didn’t question if Neil said he was fine.

It was the 18th of January, tomorrow was Neil’s 22nd birthday (Nathaniel’s 21st). Neil spent the day before it in preparation.

During the morning of the 18th, it was easy to hide the sickness growing in the pit of his stomach; between practice and the new foxes, he had his hands full. Soon though, people turned in, going their separate directions. Kevin and Nicky, the only roommates to Andrew and Neil, knew the date and knew to leave the dorm for the night. Entering into the 19th would not need more witnesses than necessary. Neil didn’t ask where they went, he didn’t care. His only concern was sucking in breathes at a normal rate, keeping himself alive.

(2 hours until the 19th) Andrew and Neil sat in silence on the couch, hip to hip and thigh to thigh. The thin material of their sweatpants made it easy to feel the other’s heat, for which Neil was thankful for. Neil had learned to breathe through smoke and walk through fire, this warmth was now calming–an anchor. Andrew sat so his arm wrapped around Neil’s back, his hand falling around Neil’s neck and shoulder’s, drawing lazy patterns with barely there touches. They said, _I am here,_ without saying, _So you must be too._

(1 hour 30 minutes until the 19th) They now lay on their sides, Neil tucked into all the spaces Andrew carved for him. Neil wanted to be small again, and Andrew let him. He folded in on himself, and once satisfied he took up little enough space Andrew placed arms around him with enough force to hold him solid. Neither moved; Neil was content to listen to his own haggard heart and Andrew’s sturdy lungs, Andrew content to simply be.

(30 minutes until the 19th) Neil’s fingers started to quake, so Andrew intertwined their hands until Neil gripped them with a white-knuckled force.

(15 minutes until the 19th) Neil pulled their hands close to his face and let his quivering lips brush Andrew’s knuckles–a silent thank-you. Andrew responded with a quick increase of pressure.

(7 minutes until the 19th) Images of Neil’s mother flashed in front of him. Fists. Stitches. Smoke. Blood. Blood. _Blood._

(3 minutes until the 19th) _I’m not sure,_ Neil thought, _that this is rational ._

(0 minutes until the 19th) Neither boy said a word. Andrew simply pressed a heavy kiss to Neil’s temple, never lifting away. When sleep chased them into darkness many hours later, Andrew still held his lips to Neil.

Neil didn’t leave the hollow Tower until 8:30 that night. Neil thought it fitting; he was born in the night, lived in darkness and shadows, and now he would be born again in them.

He went to a local dive bar, where you could buy shit-vodka shots for 2 dollars. This is what Neil did for hours. Who knows what time he crept out the door, Neil only knew that Nathaniel would be no more. Today was just a day.

But how could he say Nathaniel would be no more when his very body–his scars–betrayed him? This life has marked him, but how would Neil mark it?

The answer came to him in the form of a cheap neon sign.

_KRYPTIC TATTOO PARLOR_

A wolfish grin spread across Neil’s lips and he spent no time debating with himself before walking inside. Neil knew exactly how to mark this life– _Neil’s_ life.

The artist, Chris, asked if he had anything in mind. Out of habit, Neil started to trace keys into his palm, and oh, did he like that answer.

Chris showed him a binder. The designs were either intricate or involved hearts–not anywhere near the direction he wanted to go in. After 20 minutes of carefully studying the album, the pictures seeming to sober him slightly, he found a design. It was classic and black and not complicated, perfect.

The needle was nothing to Neil. The artist commended him afterwards, saying he had a high pain tolerance. Neil winced at this, it wasn’t an insult, but he felt the sting.

He walked out of the parlor and headed back to the bar. He needed more alcohol if he was going back.

 

(2 hours after the 19th) Neil stumbled into the door, his crude balance causing him to use the door for support. Not surprisingly, he found Andrew waiting for him in the living room. Neil said nothing as he sat beside him on the couch, but Andrew did.

“Come here.”

The words were a simple command, and with as much alcohol in his system as there was, there was no denying Andrew. Neil climbed so he sat half in Andrew’s lap and half on the couch cushion. Neil could tell from Andrew’s hooded eyes that he would kiss him. Andrew let his hands rise to Neil’s neck, gripping him such force that it caused him to wince. Andrew, who had already started to lean forward, pulled back. He wasted no time in pulling Neil’s shirt to the side to see what had caused the pain. A white bandage was taped just above his collar bone, on the left side of his chest ( _his heart,_ he thought stupidly).

Neil couldn’t read Andrew’s face as his fingers started at the edge of the bandage. It took him mere moments to take it off, and when he did, Andrew stilled. He stared intensely at the black key. Neil could now register the look on Andrew’s face. Longing. It warred with Andrew against something inside him.

Slowly and without word, Andrew climbed out from under Neil and stalked out the door.

 

If the foxes noticed the tension between Andrew and Neil, which they undoubtedly did, they said nothing. A week went by and Andrew had said nothing to Neil that wasn’t strictly necessary, hadn’t let his look linger, and hadn’t spent any time alone with him. Neil knew better than to push it, no matter how much he wanted to. Andrew would speak when he was ready. It was now a waiting game.

It wasn’t until early morning on the 27th that they spoke.

(1:24 am) Neil sat awake in his bed. He didn’t know how hard it would be to sleep in his own bed, not having done it hardly at all since moving into Andrew’s dorm. He heard the front door creak open and then silence. It was an invitation. Neil gladly accepted, climbing out past a sleeping Kevin and Nicky. Andrew stood in the center of the living room. He wore a zip up hoodie that looked suspiciously like nothing was underneath it, dark sweatpants, and bare feet. This bare look sent a rush through Neil.

He joined Andrew in the center hastily, leaving 6 inches between them–enough room to touch him if he wanted. Agonizingly slow, Andrew unzipped his hoodie, showing Neil that he was right in his previous assumption. What shocked him was the white bandage above his collar bone, on the left side of his chest ( _his heart,_ he thought hopelessly).

Neil brought his hands up towards the bandage in a motion that Andrew could turn away if he wanted. When he didn’t, Neil worked the edges of the bandage up to reveal what lay underneath.

It was the black mouth of a lock.

Neil’s finger’s faltered as they danced around the edges of the permanence. He was sure he stopped breathing–that is, until lips and hands were on him in a violent urgency. Neil took no time in responding, pouring into the kiss exactly what he felt about this. Teeth clashed and tongues danced. He tasted like stars–the untouchable, yet here they were.

Too soon, Andrew pulled away and said, his voice hoarse from the kiss, “173%”. Andrew stalked to his room in deadly silence, leaving Neil in awe, his fingers brushing his lips.

It didn’t take Neil long before going after Andrew. Silently, he crept into Andrew’s arms, becoming one in the tangled sheets. Andrew said nothing. Neither did he when Neil slipped a leg back between Andrew’s and pressed his back further into Andrew.

Neil could feel a burning where his tattoo lay–where Andrew’s touched through his back. A small smile tugged on his lips and he wiped it away before Andrew noticed.

Home. That’s what ‘this’ is.

This time the grin did not leave him.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous said: OKAY YOU KNOW WHEN ANDREW SAYS IN TKM "what are you hoping for coordinates?" AND NEIL RESPONDS "I'm willing to draw a map on you" CAN YOU WRITE ABOUT A TIME WHERE THAT HAPPENS AND HOW IT KINDA CALMS ANDREW BECAUSE HE KNOWS THAT THIS PERFECT KID WONT GO OUTSIDE THE LINES (FOR EXTRA FLUFF TO LIKE COMPESTATE FOR THE INEVITABLE ANGST YOU COULD INCLUDE THE FOXES SEEING THE MARKER LINES AND NEILS HAND WRITING SAYING "here is encouraged" "here not so much" and them just crying bc these two kiLL THEM)

neil had learned that it was okay to want. he had learned that he could survive based solely on need, but to live for something was to want. 

neil wanted exy. he wanted the foxes. he wanted a home. he wanted andrew. it was four things more than his mother taught him to live with, and four things that were dangerous. it was dangerous to live in a sport that the moriyamas dominated. it was dangerous to have a family. it was dangerous to be comfortable somewhere. and most of all, it was dangerous to love.

those were, of course, the large wants. at first, neil only knew the large wants; he didn’t quite understand that you didn’t always have to put your heart on the line. 

neil was doodling in his notebook’s margins haphazardly, varying from paw prints to cartoon images of the foxes. 

andrew was sitting next to him and neil was prepared for the other man to scold him for not looking at his notes when andrew opened his mouth, but got instead, “why don’t you get a sketch book or something?”

he hadn’t considered pursuing something that was, formerly, a waste of time. he had time now, time to sit in the afternoons and sketch.

neil said nothing and continued his sketching. regardless of neil’s reaction to andrew’s comment, andrew threw a new sketchbook on to neil’s lap the next day.

neil liked the slight rebellious thrill that went through his veins every time he picked up the sketch book. this was still forbidden. this was taking the time to participate in something that had nothing to do with running. every time he did something like this, it felt like rooting himself a little farther into the ground.

one afternoon, andrew laid neil back on the carpet and followed him down to meet their lips. neil had, only moments before, been sketching with the first available utensil–a sharpie. It made so he had a piece of paper between the sheet he worked on and the next page to avoid bleeding. 

now the sharpie sat awkwardly between fingers as his hands carded themselves in andrew’s hair.

neil’s hands eventually made their way down andrew’s torso until they tugged on the ends of andrew’s shirt in silent question. andrew’s hands broke from neil’s body to comply to the request and neil took the new skin in with searching fingers. 

andrew made an annoyed sound and broke their kiss. “are you ever going to drop that marker? or is it that you plan to do something with it?”

neil hadn’t considered it before, but neither had he considered dropping it. andrew’s last sentence, however, had his mind set upon something else. 

“mmm. maybe i do,” neil replied before leaning in to andrew’s neck, pressing a kiss that andrew both leaned into and pulled away from. “but we have to go to the bed for it. more comfortable,” neil finished.

andrew considered it a moment before deciding it was at least worth it to see what neil had in mind. 

andrew stood by the foot of the bed waiting for neil to tell him what to do, which was enough to assure neil that this was a good idea, as andrew rarely gave in to other people’s askance. 

“lay down, either side,” neil said as he uncapped the marker. andrew laid on his back, likely so he could see what neil would do. 

neil was slow in his movements, putting his legs on either side of andrew’s. he let an arm lean on the bed beside andrew’s head as he leaned in for a kiss. neil kept it rather short before moving to press his lips to the hollow that was created by andrew’s collarbones. when andrew sighed deeply, neil lifted and replaced his lips with the marker’s tip and wrote _kiss here._

andrew raised an eyebrow in question, but did not stop neil. neil still answered andrew’s wonder. “i told you once i was willing to draw a map.”

“fucking junkie.”

this caused neil’s marker to stray to andrew’s heart, where he wrote _warning: contents addictive._ he let the ink dry a moment before pressing a kiss to the writing and pausing there. when he lifted andrew was staring down at him, not mad but making his face like he was.

neil continued on his mission, putting a _if offguard, here_ on andrew’s neck, a _here is encouraged_ across the right side of andrew’s ribs, _here, not so much_ just beneath them because it was ticklish spot that andrew refused to admit to.

when neil was content with his work, after andrew had flipped onto his stomach and neil went to work there as well, they texted kevin that he could come back to the dorm and spent the rest of the night playing video games. 

the next day was practice, which meant getting up at what kevin considered to be an ungodly hour to get to the court on time. 

nicky and allison stipulated why andrew didn’t change out with the rest of them and instead went to the stalls. why he didn’t come out with just underclothes, but full gear, neck guard included. they landed on neil putting an undignified amount of hickey’s on andrew’s person. 

neil’s only reaction to andrew’s move was a slight grin, which only fueled nicky and allison’s now bet.

andrew was careful though, so all practice nicky and allison did not get their answer. 

afterwards, wymack called them to sit down for a team meeting. andrew sat in his normal spot between neil and kevin, closer to neil than kevin. 

at one point andrew held out a hand and neil put a phone in it. this was andrew’s mistake, in thinking that nicky was not still watching him. 

nicky broke the conversations in the room by saying, “what’s on your hand, andrew?”

neil watched andrew clutch the phone a little harder as he said, “a phone.”

“on, not in,” nicky quipped.

andrew ignored the comment, choosing to wait for wymack to start the meeting. nicky let it go, favoring too to wait, until andrew was once again not expecting it. 

the answer to the bet was answered, however, not in what laid on andrew’s hand, but in andrew tying his shoes. 

andrew stopped outside the door to the lounge, bending over to tie his shoe. allison had stopped to investigate, to see if she could see the palm of andrew’s hand, but found something more interesting. 

she saw instead the small of andrew’s back where his turtle neck had ridden up. neil had placed another _here is encouraged_ between the dimples of andrew’s back.

when andrew finished tying his shoe, he prepared to stare allison into leaving. he found that she was already taking an exasperated breath and turning around, causing andrew to look to neil for answer.

“your back,” neil supplied. after all, there wasn’t much neil could have done aside from blatantly pulling andrew’s shirt down, which would have drawn more attention.

andrew hadn’t wanted the foxes to know what was written across his skin, but there was no taking back what was seen. he instead matched his palm with neil’s where his said _hold_ here and intertwined their fingers.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymousasked: Andreil prompt: after, let's say 2 years of tkm, Andrew gets involved in a fight and he has to come back to his pills. How that would affect to his "nothing" with Neil? Thaaanks!

neil waited in a hard chair at the police station. the desk sargent had refused him the right to see andrew yet. they said ‘a process must be completed first.’ why had they called him if they only wanted him to wait? they said ‘because of the nature of the incident combined with andrew’s history, solitude is better–safer.’ neil couldn’t give a rat’s ass about safety. 

he had gone to evermore for andrew–on nothing more than riko’s trust. he would be damned if solitude was best. 

neil wasn’t a complete idiot, being alone was often times what andrew needed–but this is what _neil_ needed. a lump sum of ten seconds to verify what he knew. ten seconds to see andrew as _andrew_ before the inevitable happened. 

it was inevitable that a psychiatric review would be done. it was inevitable that they ignore andrew’s requests. inevitable that they deem him too dangerous to continue un-medicated. 

neil felt the burning sensation of tears welling up, and pushed it down for the countless time. his fingers were numb, and distantly he thought it might be a problem. 

he concentrated on the thrumming inside his head instead of the seconds ticking by. precious seconds–precious because now sober andrew was disappearing. 

he could feel the shift. could feel when instincts he left behind years ago took over. his mother would have hit him for going into survival mode over a boy. she would have hit him for having a boy period. 

he wasn’t sure if it was neil or nathaniel anymore. he wanted to say it was neil; for andrew, he wanted to say it was neil. but the smile that crept its way on to his face cast doubt on that. 

time was a bendable thing, and he couldn’t tell how long it was before bee was coming in the door to the station. 

her expression read grim, giving him no reassurance when she saw him. she didn’t even ask what was happening, only showed her credentials to the desk sargent and walked back. 

he had made himself a new person, but he could be what he needed to be to see andrew. 

“josten?” is what wakes him from his trance. he responds by nodding his head once. “they’re about to take him to transport–a psych hospital–you’ve got a few minutes while Dr. Dobson sorts out paperwork.”

_nonononononono._

he thinks back to every movie and tv show nicky and matt had crammed inside his head over the past two years. he thinks back, trying to remember if this is how it went in them. he thinks that it can’t be. this was too quick. they hadn’t even given him updates. he still didn’t know what happened other than basic facts: andrew got into a fight. he fared far better. where was the information? 

_nonononononono._

he wanted to scream the injustice, but what came out was, “okay,” and he stood. the officer led him back towards the cells. they hadn’t even let andrew out.

andrew was sitting on a bench that the cell offered, his eyes shut and head leaned back against the brick. he looked deceptively calm for being wide awake. 

he wasn’t sure he trusted his voice, but he tried anyways, “andrew?” andrew’s eyes opened slowly. 

“i’m surprised you didn’t run.”

he had nothing to say save for, “andrew.” it was the only word in his vocabulary at the moment.

“not for much longer. doc says i’m well on my way to being the monster again.” his gut twisted. he found a few words slipping through the cracks of the wall he forgot he had put up. 

“andrew, we’ll-we’ll get through this. we’ll–” andrew interupted him.

“no. _we_ won’t. i will. you’ll carry on. this was just a pipe dream anyways. it was never real.” andrew said it with such apathy that he thought maybe they had given him something already.

he couldn’t keep the break out of his voice when he said with ferocity, “this was _never_ a pipe dream. andrew.” he said andrew’s name like a prayer and a plead.

“andrew’s not here for much longer, nathaniel. tick-tock.” he wagged his finger back and forth with his words. 

“andrew,” he said with a great deal more conviction than he felt, “we’re going to get through this.”

“are you that thick?” andrew stood, crossing the cell slowly and coming to stand directly in front of him. “there is no ‘we’. we’re through.”

“andrew. andrew, you don’t mean that–”

“but you see that’s the thing, neil, nathaniel, whoever’s home in there; i do. _this_ , this right here, is the very last say that i have,” he sneered. 

this time when he spoke andrew’s name, only the hard letters were heard. 

andrew changed his tone dramatically from what it had been previously, “i won’t let you let me be.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> idk where this came from but here ya go: couch sleep drape laying thingy (for lack of better words)

Kevin buries his face farther into the couch, letting the heat of his own breath in the crevice warm his face. He is too close to sleep to consider grabbing a blanket, but uncomfortable enough to continue to wiggle his way to a warmer position. 

Andrew and Neil would be home soon, so he thinks he can stave off sleep for a few minutes. They had gone for a sweets run, Andrew claiming the amount of gummy worms in their apartment is appalling, and Neil sighing and grabbing the car keys. Kevin only grunted in acknowledgment and furrowed to his current position on the couch. 

He hears the lock click briefly before the sound of sliding shoes and a plastic bag are heard. Andrew and Neil shuffle their way into the apartment, and Kevin turns from the inside of the couch towards them. Andrew goes to the kitchen to throw the bag away and open the sweet while Neil stays to watch Kevin. 

Kevin lets himself watch back with a hooded look for a moment before mumbling, “Are you going to come here or not?”

Neil doesn’t hesitate to move for Kevin, and Kevin scooches farther into the couch to make room for Neil’s small form. He lays with his back to Kevin’s chest, and cards his legs between Kevin’s. Kevin wraps his top arm around Neil to pull him closer, and tucks his hand beneath Neil’s shoulder. 

It’s a little warmer now with Neil’s body heat, and the warmth that accompanies Neil’s company as a state of being. It’s like a slow burn that starts in the pit of his stomach and works outwards.

While Kevin and Neil had been situating themselves, Andrew had made his way back and stared at them from the doorway to the kitchen. He watched them settle while eating gummy worms. 

Kevin busies himself with nuzzling his face into Neil’s neck, but Neil notices and says, “You’re small.” In Andrew’s lingo, it’s an invitation. Neil is offering enough room for Andrew to squeeze himself into.

A few years ago this would be out of the question; but it isn’t a few years ago, and this is Neil and Kevin and Andrew. 

Kevin pulls Neil closer all the while inching away from the back of the couch to make a small enough space for Andrew. Neil ends up precariously on edge, mostly held up Kevin’s arms. He might have complained that the effort it took to do so was not in alignment with the sleep he wanted, but he can’t complain when his boys are allowing him to be so soft with them today. 

Andrew walks to the couch, stopping to hand Neil the package of gummy worms, then steps over Kevin and Neil’s body. He stands there a minute, in the crevice, before crouching over to get into a laying position.

He snakes an arm beneath Kevin’s torso, submitting himself to let it fall asleep later, and curls the other around the two, stopping near Neil’s hands to grab from the bag of gummies. His feet tangle around Kevin’s thighs, finding the heart of the warmth between the three of them. 

They spend silent minutes while Andrew finishes the bag, and then leans his forehead against Kevin’s back and shuts his eyes. 

Kevin, content that Andrew will stay even after eating, lets himself drift into abandon. Neil had lost himself long ago, holding the bag of worms up by resting the bag between his chest and arm. 

Andrew is the last to sleep, listening to Neil and Kevin’s breathing deepen and relishing in the shared warmth between them. He carries himself to sleep with one hand between Neil’s back and Kevin’s chest, and another asleep beneath them. 

They wake up with cricks in their bones and aches in their joints, but none complains. Kevin’s heart is full with _too much._


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sing-for-your-lover said: how about kandreil doing something special for kevin's birthday?

he wakes to open mouthed kisses being pressed to his ribs. not andrew then, neil. his eyes flutter beneath their lids and his hands search blindly for the familiar tuft of curls, finding them and knotting his fingers in them. 

he lets out a groggy, “mmgoodmorning,” and opens his eyes. neil pauses, blue eyes flicking up towards kevin. they promise a million things that make kevin’s gut clench. 

neil watches as kevin’s eyes turn hooded. it incites him to action, resuming his lazy dance across kevin’s ribs. he works slowly upwards, letting his teeth graze kevin’s nipple when he gets there. goosebumps spread across his chest.

neil laves at the hollow of his throat, drawing deep sighs out of kevin. his teeth nick on kevin’s jaw before catching his lips in a sloppy kiss. neil is half sprawled on top of kevin, their chests touching and kevin’s hands sliding back and forth on bare skin.

kevin pulls away, eyes taking in neil’s face, “where’s andrew?”

neil leans in, pressing a kiss to the corner of kevin’s mouth, and then, “not even today could he wait for you to wake up.” today. it’s his birthday today. “he got donuts–plain for you.”

his lips turn upwards in a smile. whenever andrew side stepped his own sweet tooth for kevin, it pleased him. “since he won’t come here..” his sentence dropped off, left for neil to finish. 

he kisses kevin again before rolling off, and together they they pad out of the bedroom. andrew sits on the couch, box of donuts sitting in front of him on the coffee table. 

“sleeping beauty,” andrew says in lieu of good morning. kevin only smiles and sits next to him, their thighs touching. neil takes up kevin’s other side, their thighs, too, touching. 

“twenty-six,” neil says to the open air.

“you’re getting old,” andrew says.

kevin leans over, pressing a barely tolerated kiss to andrew’s golden hair, “old and happy.”

“eat your fucking donuts,” he says in what kevin guesses is supposed to sound like a growl. he doesn’t argue, opening the box and picking up one of the plain ones. he grabs the donut that looks to be the most sugar coated with his other hand and holds it out to andrew, who takes it nonplussed.

they eat in companionable silence until the box is left with nothing but crumbs. kevin waits a minute or two to settle before circling andrew’s jaw with his finger tips. he turns it up and towards himself and leans down for a kiss.

he mutters, “thank you,” against andrew’s lips, andrew’s reply to bite them. he feels neil’s hand come to rest on his thigh, and feels the hot breath on his shoulder before his lips touch. 

andrew’s hand reaches across kevin’s torso, resting on his hip, and works beneath his shirt up to touch bare skin. 

andrew makes a ‘tsk’ sound and pulls away. “the couch is too small; lets go to the bedroom.”

it’s almost amusing, the line of three men making their way to the bedroom with arousal beckoning them. 

“take your pants off.” neil says it low and gravely, and it goes straight to kevin’s dick. he steps out of his pants and watches andrew’s eyes trail from toe to head, up kevin’s body.

“shirt,” is all he says. kevin takes this off too. his clothes lay in a pile on the floor, watching his boys devour him with their gaze. neil steps forwards, and kevin takes the hint, matching his steps backwards until the backs of his legs hit the bed. 

neil’s hand on his chest pushes him down, his hands gripping the sheets when he’s down. his eyes catch andrew’s movement, coming to sit on the bed beside kevin. neil props himself precariously on the edge of the bed, leaning forwards.

he kisses the roadwork of veins that cross kevin’s hips, working closer and closer to his dick. it’s flush to his stomach with want. andrew then leans, him to kevin’s nipple. his teeth flick over it, then his tongue works around it; hard and soft, hard and soft. 

kevin’s focus bounces between the two, but is ultimately centered on neil. andrew is wrecking him, but neil is closer to the crux of the matter. especially when his tongue travels the length of his cock. 

he shudders in on himself, but stops when andrew’s hands hold him in place and his teeth clamp down harder on his nipple. when kevin stills, andrew’s tongue swirls in half apology. 

neil had let up when kevin moved, but now returns his attention. he moves down lower, and draws a loud groan from kevin. neil’s tongue works between teasing kevin’s balls and slipping between his ass cheeks. 

his cock twitches and leaks on his stomach. andrew reaches a hand for him, wrapping around his length and thumbing at the slit. kevin is reduced to keening sounds, and desperate motions of his legs widening, trying to give better access to neil. 

together, andrew and neil work him apart, andrew’s mouth never leaving kevin’s nipple, his hand lazily strokign kevin, and neil’s tongue making kevin’s hips buck. 

he doesn’t last long. when he comes down from the high of it all, neil is kissing the inside of his thigh, whispering something he can’t quite hear, and andrew is working his thumbs into the spaces of his ribs. 

it takes a moment, but he understands what neil says, “happy birthday.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kevin has a thing for neil when he's angry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nsfw

he could kill neil for coming to him when he was like this because they both knew the effect it had on kevin. the other man was stalking his way across the room, his eyes dark and calculating. it made a fire burn in the pit of kevin’s stomach. 

“who pissed you off, little one?” kevin cooed. he couldn’t help acting like this when neil was like _this_.

“jack.” 

ah. in the very beginning, jack had made neil desolate, and curl in on himself. now, jack only gleamed murder and barbed wire from neil. it had taken time, but between andrew and kevin, they had helped neil to a different feeling about all jack had to say. something less harmful to himself.

neil stopped his approach when he had to crane his neck up to look at kevin. and like that, the room around them was nothing but static. 

he drank in the slightly feral look that neil wore. the pupils that filled his eyes, shadowing the light blue. the slight tilt to his lips that showed kevin neil was not gone, but in fact very present.

it was a tension wraught minute where they both drank the other in, gazes dropping up and then down, before neil said, “your knees.”

kevin was unwavering, lowering himself to the ground slowly and adjusting his gaze so that he could continue looking at neil. 

neil reached a hand for kevin and danced the pads of his fingers across kevin’s cheek. his thumb pressed and remained for a moment over the queen piece. 

“i’m going to fuck your mouth.” when neil was like this, he was very much like andrew. kevin had no defense against this. his lips parted slightly, and he knew that the wave of heat that passed over him was a blush spreading. 

it incited neil to move, finally, and his hand dragged from kevin’s face and to his zipper. kevin’s own quickly darted up to grab neil’s wrist.

“let me,” his tone hushed but not quiet. kevin watched the spark ignite behind neil’s eyes before letting his hand slide from kevin’s grip. 

kevin undid neil’s pants, then sliding his hands at neil’s sides and beneath the waist band. it served a dual purpose; both taking neil’s pants to his knees, and letting himself appreciate the hard muscles of neil’s thighs. 

he could see the outline of neil’s length through his underwear. his hands went there next, pulling his underwear down to meet his pants. 

neil was half-hard, and well on his way to fully-hard. kevin just waited, hands falling to the seams of his pants. 

neil wrapped his hand around the base of his cock and started working up and down. it was the only time thus far that neil’s eyes stopped watching kevin, and instead fluttered shut. 

kevin watched,and felt the tightness in this own pants grow. his hand moved to his crotch, relishing in any friction he could make. neil’s eyes lazed open when kevin let a quiet moan past his lips. 

“someone’s excited,” he drawled. every bit of him still burned with anger, but now it was equal parts want. 

kevin only dug the heel of his palm in harder in response, maintaining neil’s stare. neil’s dick twitched a little at the sight, and his eyes turned hooded.

“open up, _queen._ ”

kevin was lost, lost, lost, and he opened his mouth. 

neil started slowly; always testing the waters first because no matter how like andrew neil seemed, he wasn’t. neil’s only experience was the two of them, and it still left him making sure he was doing everything right. as if there was anything neil could do that kevin wouldn’t enjoy.

kevin dragged his tongue along the tip as neil waited to push in again. he delighted in the hitch of neil’s breath. again, neil pushed in, a little rougher now. and then faster.

kevin hollowed his cheeks and let his tongue slide over neil’s dick. the room filled with sound of neil’s grunts and kevin’s hums. 

kevin felt neil’s dick swell. kevin knew just as much as neil did that he was utterly close.

neil pulled out completely, leaving kevin to look up at him, neil’s dick inches from his face. neil took himself in hand and moved up and down quickly. when he came, kevin closed his eyes. he felt it coat his face, and then neil’s probing fingers at his jaw.

they tilted his head up a little more, and kevin opened his eyes.

“so pretty,” he crooned.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oh oh oh can we get kandreil during a game? maybe someone gets into a fight, maybe it's Kevin who knows I'm not about the specifics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nsfw

the roaring in his ears is more than just being slammed into the court walls. that, he feels that in his bones. but the sound that fills his head is anger. 

it sings a happy tune in the way that only exy can do to him. he hears andrew’s voice in his head saying, ‘you are a fox.’ it prompts him to his next move: a left hook. 

kevin feels the reverberations deep in the scars of old injuries from the impact of his padded knuckles on the other player’s helmet. it makes a toothy grin spread across his face.

when the other player returns the favor, and kevin’s helmet is slammed into his skull, kevin only hits back. it’s a long minute before the refs interrupt. kevin can feel blood pooling in the back of his throat.

he barely hears the ref call a red card. most nights that’s insufferable, but tonight is a different night. tonight is a night that kevin feels cruel. 

andrew is on the bench because it’s second half, and kevin takes the spot beside him. 

“junkie.” andrew mutters around his water bottle. kevin has no response because abby is poking at his face and handing cloth. 

when abby finally hustles away to stand by wymack, kevin and andrew sit in static-filled silence. it’s like putting your finger an inch from the television, feeling the electricity there. that feeling fills kevin as he breathes it in.

they win the game. unsurprisingly, neil scores the winning point. 

kevin’s body is thrumming in anticipation. he changes out, and waits to shower. waits because tonight is a different night. 

the locker room clears slowly, leaving andrew, neil, and kevin. they all wait for someone to come back, having forgotten something, but none do.

kevin moves first, slinging his shirt off on the bench as he walks towards the showers. he hears the scuffle of feet on the tile to signal that andrew and neil follow him. 

he shuffles out of his pants and underwear outside of the stall, and turns on the water to a scalding temperature. he swings the door shut, and the steam is nearly instant, furling around him in the stall. 

he feels the cool air at his back rather than hears the stall door open. he turns, and andrew and neil stand bare before him. 

“the water’s warm,” kevin cooes. andrew snarls, but he’s the first one in the stall, neil behind him. andrew puts a hand on his chest and pushes him into the water. he watches with mild interest as the water trailing down his face is tinted pink from blood not yet wiped away. 

andrew kisses him, teeth biting and fingernails digging in. he tastes the blood between their mouths, a different high than the game offers. 

he had forgotten about neil, but only until he feels the nipping at his hip. neil is on his knees, one hand wrapped around andrew’s waist and digging into his hip, and another at the crook of kevin’s knee. 

kevin moves his hand to curl in neil’s hair. while kevin is admiring the sight of neil on his knees, andrew laves at the hollow of his throat. his eyes flutter shut. 

neil’s hand slowly travels up from behind kevin’s knee, to the back of his thigh, and to his ass. he gasps when neil’s finger is suddenly inside him, his mouth open in an o shape. 

and then andrew’s hand around his dick draws another sound from him, deep in his throat. together, andrew and neil work kevin up to a frenzy. they build that static in his blood, send it boiling, and leave him with nothing but their hands. 

he comes with a strangled, “fuck,” the hand tangled in neil’s hair tightening, and another pressed to the stall wall. 

there is nothing left in his bones, barely on his feet from weak knees. tonight is a different night, and kevin is ridiculously clinging to the threads of it to make it back to their dorm.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Could you write Andriel + jealous Andrew?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you must love me this is beautiful (also excuse my northern ass and my need to put snow in every prompt i get today) ((also sorry it got long lmao i liked the build-up ok))

He’s reading when Neil walks in the door. It’s not a surprise, they had worked their schedules so that they could find time to see each other in the hectic mess that is professional exy. 

He sets down his book and looks at Neil, who is in the midst of peeling off layers of winter clothing. It’s below freezing out and the snow is steadily falling, Andrew can see bits of it melting in Neil’s hair and on his soon departed coat.There’s a closet by the door with hangers that Neil hangs his things then shoves his boots at the bottom of. 

When Neil is completely out of his winter attire he faces Andrew fully and says, “Hey.” It sounds just a little whimsy, from the cold likely. His cheeks are flushed pink and the turtleneck he wears only gives Andrew ideas. They have a full day, a full night, and even a little bit of the morning before Neil has to go back. It was hell to work out and too much work to make up for on both of their parts, but seeing Neil is enough to rid him of any of it. 

“Come he fuck here,” Andrew says exasperated with Neil’s always waiting nature. Every time they get together Neil thinks that Andrew might tell him to leave; he’s not going to tell Neil to leave.

Neil is cold at Andrew’s side, but quickly warming up. Now that the invitation’s been given, Neil sidles up to Andrew without qualm. Andrew’s sitting with his legs tucked beneath him and leaning against the arm rest while Neil tucks himself in whatever alcove he can find. Andrew accommodates this somewhat for the sheer fact that if he doesn’t Neil will surely complain about being cold. 

Neil’s head comes to lean against Andrew’s shoulder, lips pursed against the fabric of his shirt, and shuts his eyes. Andrew encircles Neil’s shoulders with an arm and pulls him just enough so that it’s not awkward to press his lips to Neil’s temple. 

“Missed you,” Neil mumbles with a deep breath into Andrew’s arm. It’s hard, being so far apart where before they had years side by side. Andrew rubs his thumb in circles where it lay on Neil’s shoulder.

“Sounds time consuming,” is Andrew’s response despite that he feels very much the same. Neil slips a hand beneath Andrew’s shirt, at his stomach, as payback. The freezing touch of his fingers makes his stomach clench. 

“Fuck you, Josten.”

“I’m tired - later though,” Andrew can feel the smirk on his face spreading.

\--

One stipulation that Andrew hadn’t managed to schedule around was an informal starters meeting: an excuse the starting team members used to get together for dinner on the team’s dime. They whined at Andrew and said that it was tenuous enough, their claim to team dollar, that if Andrew didn’t come none of them could stake claim to it. Because his new team aren’t such bad company, he said he would come - so long as Neil could come. He didn’t say Neil is his boyfriend, in fact said nothing other than, “I’m bringing Neil.” They, of course, don’t take long to jump to the conclusion that Neil is none other than Neil Josten.

Thus brings Andrew to regretfully wake Neil from the nap he started almost immediately upon entering Andrew’s apartment. He’s warm now at Andrew’s side and breathing deep while curled into Andrew’s body. He waits as long as he can before whispering a light, “Neil,” that’s enough to stir his eyes to opening. 

He unfolds his legs and stretches them out to the length of the couch before sitting up.

“Time for a shower?” he asks and his voice is groggy from sleep. Andrew regrets saying okay to this a little more. A lot more. 

“Not for both of us,” he hints with a toothy grin

He may not have all the time in the world and he may have to leave the apartment instead of spending it wrapped up in Neil, but that doesn’t mean he won’t use the time they have before they leave. Neil’s lips are soft and burning under his own. He can’t hear the sounds of their breaths over the rush of the water around them. 

\--

Neil wears another turtleneck and so does Andrew. Neil’s is a deep red and Andrew’s is black.

When they walk into the restaurant, some burger place tonight, Kasey waves at them from a rounded booth in the corner. It doesn’t look like they’re the last ones to show, which is something considering how much time they spent beneath the pulse of the water. 

There’s a corner on one end of the booth already piling up with coats and scarves, so Andrew and Neil discard their own their before saying hello to everyone. 

Andrew doesn’t bother anything but a tight smile, but Neil says bright a bright, “Hello, er, I’m Neil,” before extending his hand to shake those already at the table. Kasey being Kasey, he pulls Neil from his uncomfortable stance at the foot of the table and into the booth next to him. Andrew follows suit.

Leo asks about Neil’s team back in Minnesota, mainly about how god awful it is to be in Minnesota. Neil laughs it off, but agrees slightly.

Another ten minutes and they are joined by the rest of their party, whereby all of them are tightly squeezed into their booth, even with Haylie on a chair at the head of the table rather than next to everyone. Andrew places a hand on Neil’s knee because he can and it’s crowded and they’ve just gotten their orders in. 

Chris, on the end of the table, leans his head in so that he can talk to Andrew and Neil. 

 

“So, not to be blunt, but to what do we owe the honor, Neil?” he doesn’t say it unkindly so Andrew doesn’t particularly react. He feels Neil’s thigh tense slightly and Andrew knows. Is he allowed to say, that’s what Neil wonders. Andrew lets Neil say what he wants, which turns out to be Neil being vague.

“Just in town visiting. Why not see the team that welcomed Andrew with open arms?” he says it like he’s seeing an old friend, checking in after time spent away. Andrew knows that Neil is being vague for sake of not wanting to overstep, but he feels a little - off put - that Kasey, next to them smiles a little dangerously. 

They are adults, but they eat wildly. Half of them have a french fry in their mouth with another in hand while they speak boisterously across the table. Andrew talks a little, but very infrequently. He’s a little thankful for Neil being especially social tonight, but a little upset still. He wishes Kasey would stop smiling the way he does at Neil. And Neil, he wishes Neil weren’t so oblivious.

He, of course, could easily rectify it by saying, “And by the way, Neil and I have been together since my sophomore year of college,” but he could also wait. He isn’t particularly interested in the rest of the evening turning into 20 questions about their relationship. He decides on the lesser of evils, only keeping his hand steady at Neil’s knee. 

They get the check and pay, only waiting for their card’s return to put their coats on and leave. The waitress brings it back with her number on it and a note that says, ‘for haylie -xo, tina.’ Andrew hadn’t been paying attention to when Haylie had even told the waitress her name. Haylie grabs the check with a triumphant smile and pulls out her phone to enter the number in. 

Everyone starts to scooch their way out of the booth and gather their coats from the end corner.

“Bathroom,” Andrew says to Neil before leaving him to find their coats. Public restaurants always have the music playing too loudly and it echos in the bathroom. He washes his hands and exits the bathroom to go back to their table. Where he finds Kasey with an arm slung around Neil’s shoulder leaning into his ear, saying something quietly. 

Andrew does not like this.

He walks up to the pair with a blank look on his face. Kasey smiles and backs from Neil because Neil has Andrew’s coat and scarf in his arms. When Andrew shimmies them on the they join the rest of the group in walking to the parking lot. It’s even colder than when they came in, and Andrew does something a little bit because he wants to and a little bit because he is very lightly trying to make a statement. 

They’re both wearing gloves so he can’t exactly feel Neil’s hand, but still their fingers intertwine and their palms meet up.

The team is loud and delighted, even as they thin out when people reach their cars. Kasey had, of course, parked next to Andrew and Neil. It’s the four of them now; Kasey, Haylie, Andrew, and Neil. They all parked the farthest back because none of them liked to deal with getting spots in the front, more willing to walk. 

And this is when Kasey notices that Andrew and Neil are holding hands. Haylie is talking, which saves him from tripping over his words when he flushes pink - likely out of embarrassment Andrew figures. They’re polite in their goodbyes, and Kasey’s are short, not clipped though. They all watch Haylie get into her car to make sure she’s good before starting up their cars. 

And maybe Andrew sees that Kasey looks from his car into Andrew’s when he kisses Neil.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "let me go" + andreil (see the notes for the first part to this)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay @lady-gryffindor remember that one time that you asked me to write a second part to [andrew goes back on his meds](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7663417/chapters/17499787). this is that.

“He’s getting out next week.”

6 months of the foxes searching at Neil for the answers to their questions. 6 months of Wymack stopping Neil from blowing his arms out on the court. 6 months of Nicky’s pitying looks. 6 months of crying between the shoulders of Matt and Allison. 6 months and now he was out. 

Same as before, meds required at all times. Neil wanted to be sick. Why did Betsy call him? 

She said that she would drive Andrew back to PSU. She said that maybe it was best if Neil wasn’t there - at first maybe. 

\--

The first thing Andrew did was turn off the smoke detectors that Kevin turned back on after his absence. The second thing he did was smoke a cigarette. Neil was not there; no, Nicky was. Neil was running. He ran until his feet fell out from under him. 

Neil was sure not to return until the stars were clear in the sky. He limped the path back. It turned out not to matter because Andrew was not there when he returned. 

No one had said anything about it before, but now that Andrew’s back he tells himself. _Go back to your own bed._ During Andrew’s stay, Neil took to sleeping in Andrew’s bed. Dumb as it were, he was used to it and it smelled like home.

His bed smelled empty. 

\--

This cat and mouse game went on for nearly a week. 

He drank. A lot. He knew, he knew, he knew he shouldn’t; but he did. It’s never taken much for Neil to become tipsy or even drunk because he never drank, and so it’s not more than a drink or two before his head was buzzing. 

He was hurt. He knows Andrew’s hurt, but he hurts too. And because he is always brimming with hope, he went to the roof. 

It was harder than he remembered to jimmy the door open and, regrettably, it was crystal clear to Andrew from the moment he set his eyes on Neil that he was drunk. 

Andrew was sitting with his feet hanging over the ledge and staring and Neil already because he was alerted early by Neil’s fumbling. 

“Go away,” Andrew said evenly. There was no emotion, but Neil knew that right now he was sober. Maybe that was why there was no emotion. Fuck, he couldn’t tell anymore. 

“Andrew.” It sounded a little closer to ‘Anrew’ than he’d like. 

“Neil,” he grit, “Go. Away.”

Neil started to close the space between him and Andrew. He now stood maybe a few feet from him. 

“I can’t, Andrew.” He sounded pathetic, even to his own ears. He knew Andrew and he knew that that meant nothing.

“Find a way, Josten.” Neil hadn’t noticed Andrew was smoking before now. He pulled the cigarette between his teeth and took a long drag. He didn’t do like he used to, he didn’t blow the smoke in Neil’s face. He turned his head and let it out into the air.

“Andrew,” his voice sounded fragile. “Andr–”

“Neil,” Andrew bursted, stepping in closer with that danger that he always use to front, “When are you going to get it through your thick skull?” He huffs a breath of air out. 

“Let me go,” Andrew says it softly, just like he said his parting words six months ago. 

And so Neil does.

\--

Nicky switched Neil like the once did. Matt helped Nicky moves his things and Neil dug his duffel from its place under his bed. He was meticulous in packing up because he owned things now that didn’t quite fit in his duffel the way they used to.

When it’s all said and done the foxes gathered in Neil’s old-new room. They drank. They drank to be sad and they drank to be drunk. Neil was not a very good drunk it seemed. He cried a little once, but he swiped it away and took another shot.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> andreil + "your sarcasm is not amusing"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> xo (did I (me?) turn this into josten-minyard rivalry? yes)
> 
> “Neil.”

“Neil.”

He had been sleeping rather soundly before Andrew woke him up. Now he blinks his eyes open to rid him of the haze of sleep. Andrew’s sitting up beside him in bed looking much more alert than Neil. 

“Hm?” He may be a light sleeper, but he is not a light waker. 

“We need to go get ice cream.” Andrew says it like it’s not the middle of the night. He says it without changing his expression either, because this, of course, is a very serious request. 

“Yeah, sure, Andrew. I’m going to go get you ice cream at,” He turns his head to the clock beside him, “3:46 in the morning.” He turns his face into the pillow and lets out a muffled, “See ya’ in the morning.”

“Your sarcasm is not amusing.” 

No response. Andrew pokes his side with his foot. 

“Come on,” it’s not so much a question as it is enticement. 

“Andrew,” he drawls. Still, it is enough to get Neil to turn his head from the pillow and back at Andrew. 

“Fifteen minutes tops. And since you’ll be up..” he trails off suggestively with a grin that one should not wear at nearly four in the morning. 

Neil groans the entire time he untangles himself from the sheets and even glares for effect when he’s through. 

“I’m not getting dressed, I’m wearing this,” Neil says solidly. He’s wearing a baggy shirt and sweatpants. Walmart it is. 

“It’s cold,” it’s as close as Neil will get to ‘Put on a jacket.’

Knowing this, he says, “All the more reason we don’t need ice cream.” He shoves his arms into the nearest jacket he has and grabs a baseball cap from the counter to cover his no doubt messy hair. 

Walmart is not completely empty, despite the early hour. It seems that Andrew is not the only one in desperate need of sweets. He’ll never see the fascination. 

For Neil’s troubles, he gets Andrew’s hand in his own. For Neil’s troubles, Andrew walks slowly.

Andrew picks rocky road, a pint of it. 

They walk the same path back to the front of the store and the registers. Neil mumbles something about all the ice cream melting in the zombie apocalypse and Andrew squeezes his hand a little, “Shut the fuck up. Generators.”

“Um, excuse me.” It’s quiet voice from behind them. They turn and find a Walmart worker staring at them with that look. It’s not the first time someone’s found out and it’s not the first time that someone’s worn that look when they did. 

“I’m sorry, I just–I thought–Oh jeez,” they, their name tag says Therese, look down at their feet and back up, face pink, “Could I maybe get a picture with you two?” They apparently decides against pointing out the obvious. Neil is glad of it, and he’s sure that Andrew is as well. 

Neil doesn’t answer because when he’s with Andrew he always sees what Andrew wants to do. Clearly he likes that Therese said nothing because he says, “Sure.”

They stands closer to Neil than they do Andrew because they're smart. Neil smiles and Andrew at least looks into the camera. 

“Thanks so much! Um, well you have a nice day.”

“You too,” Neil replies.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hemmicknicky asked:  
> kandreil + 'We spent the longest night of our lives in the dark.' have fun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fluff? fluff. (also this is accidentally mostly andreil because kevin sleeps a lot)

He wakes up, oddly without the blaring of his alarm. It’s enough to make him shoot up from his pillow and squint at the light his clock gives off - or should. His alarm is dark. Unplugged? Damn cats. 

He untangles himself from Andrew, Kevin, and the sheets. In sum, it does not happen without waking Andrew too. There isn’t a good way to get out of bed between the three of them and Kevin’s restless limbs in his sleep.

Andrew’s look is hooded beneath tired lashes. He’s laying with his body angles where Neil had been a minute before. He didn’t move other than to turn his head towards Neil and look. It’s not so much a reprimand for waking him as it just a look. He likes those. 

Kevin ungracefully snores and it draws both of their attentions to him. If Andrew and Neil sleep messily, Kevin sleeps fitfully, wildly, and heavily. Most of the blankets are in a fight with his ankles and his hair sticks in awful directions. His face is shoved hard into the pillows and his arm is stretched across the bed, touching Andrew’s shoulder. 

Neil takes a moment to watch Kevin, then he turns toward the closet to grab a towel for his shower. 

If Andrew hadn’t woken up yet it can’t be too late, so he doesn’t bother checking his phone before going to the bathroom. 

The bathroom is connected to their room, to the right of the closet and opposite of the true exit to their room. A perk of three professional exy players under one roof is their home. It’s not extravagant, but it’s not without its luxuries. 

He flips the switch to turn on the fan and accompanying light, but nothing happens. Great, first the cats unplug his alarm and now the fan is broken. He turns on the regular light instead, it’ll just be very steamy. Or at least, he tries to. This doesn’t turn on either. 

Blown fuse? The bathroom is on the same circuit as their room, so it would explain his alarm in another way than the cats. He hadn’t checked if it was actually unplugged.

He sighs, drops his towel on the counter, and returns to the bedroom to check the status of his alarm. 

it is not unplugged. Andrew raises his head from the pillow with a questioning look on his face at Neil’s rooting behind the bedside stand. 

“Blown fuse. Or the power’s out. Still seeing,” he explains. It would suck if the power was out. It’s cold as balls and was supposed to have dropped to zero or below last night. But if the power’s out, it can’t have gone out long ago because it’s not cold in the house yet. 

Andrew gets out of bed at this. He’s likely thinking what Neil is. 

The first light they test is the hall light, which does not turn on. 

“Is the hall on the same fuse as the bedroom?” Neil can’t remember, but he knows Andrew will. 

“No, it has its own.” Great.

“Well, at least the water heater’s gas,” Neil says. Warm water is better than nothing he supposes. 

Andrew doesn’t reply. He just continues down the hall and to the kitchen. Neil follows. Andrew’s going for the flashlights underneath the sink. 

Of course, soon enough it would be light out, but then again dark. It’s very possible the power will be back before night hits, but just in case. 

Neil helps Andrew by fishing the candles out from the hall cupboard and setting them on the table next to the small gathering of flashlights. Then he grabs his phone from the bedroom and calls DTE to see when they expect the power to be back on. They are extremely helpful when they say they are “working very hard to fix the problem, but are unaware at this time how long it will be.” Neil relays this to Andrew.

He doesn’t respond to this, but rather says, “Let’s take a shower.”

Andrew is warm beneath his hands. They stand beneath the spray of hot water and work with deft fingers, though not efficiently. Neil gets distracted while Andrew is rubbing soap on his back and kisses from the corner of his jaw to the shell of his ear. Andrew makes a sound in his throat that isn’t unpleasant, so Neil continues until Andrew turns his face directly to his and kisses him fully. 

The shower is only turned off when there’s no more hot water to speak of. They hadn’t grabbed a second towel, so Neil grabs his from earlier and wraps it around Andrew’s hips, using the ends to pull Andrew to him. Their bodies are flush and they kiss until Neil’s stomach growls.

“Come on and get dressed. We’ll go get something to eat, bring something back for Kevin later.” Andrew backs away, taking the towel with him and rubbing it through his hair.

The dress in similar outfits, faded jeans and turtle necks. Andrew’s is black and Neil’s is dark green. Even with drawers opening and shutting in their room, Kevin, unsurprisingly, doesn’t wake. 

They put on their boots because one glance out the window tells them it’s not only snowy, but slushy. The street lamps are still on because it’s still dark. It’s pushing seven right now. He’d have been crazy to try and go for a run this morning, and he’s a little thankful his alarm didn’t go off. 

Andrew drives, begrudgingly going slower than he wants to. Even at this hour there’s enough traffic being cautious to impede Andrew’s normal form of travel. To ease it, though, they go to a diner only a few miles down the road. 

Andrew gets chocolate chip waffles with whipped cream and chocolate milk. Neil gets oatmeal and a bowl of fruit. 

Occasionally Andrew offers Neil a forkful and he eats it. It’s too sweet for him to have considered for himself, but he doesn’t say no to Andrew offering it. 

At the end of their meal they ask for a to-go order. They get what Neil had ordered because it’s the healthiest thing. They’ll have to wake Kevin up when they get back if he wants it hot. 

There’s a spin-out on the way home. A car is shoved into the median and surrounded by cops and ambulances, flashing lights. Neil lets his hand fall to an easy place at Andrew’s thigh and rubs his thumb back and forth - because already there’s tension tight in his body at the scene. 

Those few miles back take longer than they wanted because of the brief bead of traffic by the accident and because Andrew doesn’t bother trying to go the speed-limit.

Kevin throws a pillow at Neil, which he fails to dodge and it hits him squarely in the chest. That Kevin should hit him without looking is unfair. 

Neil puts himself on the bed next to Kevin, sidles tight to his side. He leans head into the space between Kevin’s neck and shoulder and presses a kiss to his pulse. It jumps a little, which tells him Kevin is still a little awake. The grumbling response that Neil feels against his lips confirms it.

“Jesus fuck - why?”

“The power’s out, and if you don’t get up, your breakfast will be cold.” Kevin shudders a little at the feeling of Neil’s breath against his neck. 

“What time is it?”

“Eight,” he punctuates it with another kiss in apology.

Kevin buries his head in deeper to the pillows, but still allows the space for Neil at his neck. 

“I’m going back to sleep after,” Kevin says into the pillow, as if Neil had thought anything different. Kevin doesn’t wake up before ten unless exy is involved. 

Kevin gets up to grab his food and returns to eat it in bed. He leaves the empty boxy on the bedside stand before huddling into the mound of blankets and sleeping again, true to his word. He doesn’t wake up again until just after eleven, nor do Andrew and Neil.

Andrew and Neil hadn’t planned on falling asleep. After Kevin fell back asleep Andrew and Neil moved to the couch. Andrew read while Neil made himself comfortable at Andrew’s side. It was starting to grow cold finally, so he grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch and covered them. It wasn’t long before Neil fell asleep, Andrew not long after him. 

Kevin wakes them by throwing himself atop them on the couch and announcing/telling, “Move over, I’m cold,” into Neil’s thigh. They do, but Kevin still ends up sprawled atop the two of them. 

A little after noon Andrew calls and orders Chinese food. They’re doing deliveries right now, even in the weather, so they don’t have to leave. When the knock comes eventually, Kevin is the one to get up because he’s on top of them. 

They eat on the floor in front of the couch, shoulder to shoulder and ankles overlapping each other’s, blanket wrapped tight around their shoulders, and the food spread out between them. Kevin uses chopsticks poorly and Neil shows him how, not for the first time. Andrew uses a fork. 

Afterward, Andrew says rather than suggests, “Because today is so clearly enriching, let’s watch a movie.” They may not have power for their TV or wi-fi for Netlfix, but they can watch it on a phone’s data. Kevin’s phone is elected because his has an extra battery. 

They go back to the bedroom. Neil lays in between Andrew and Kevin, per usual. Kevin’s head is on Neil’s shoulder with his hand on Neil’s chest. Andrew is against Neil’s side, shoulder to hip, his hand in the one of Neil’s not holding Kevin’s phone. 

They watch _The Finest Hours_ because it’s new to Netlfix. It’s long so it wastes most of the afternoon away, especially with their breaks to get snacks. Croutons are, in fact, a good snack. 

Andrew falls asleep in the middle, his head half drooping on Neil and half onto the pillow behind him. Neil can’t tell if Kevin is awake, but he doesn’t move to find out because Andrew is leaning on him enough that if he moves to look Andrew will be moved also. 

They get more take-out for dinner, this time from a coney island. When Kevin mentions that it’s the second time they’ve been unhealthy today, Andrew shuts him up with a kiss. And another. Andrew kisses Kevin until his protests turn to moans. 

It’s cold as balls, quite actually. They don’t leave the bed the rest of the night. They have most of the blankets in the house covering them. They’re tangled together. They spent the longest night of their lives in the dark. They wake up sweating and uncomfortable because the power came back on sometime in the night. Andrew shoves them into the shower, a luke-warm one that they still share despite being too hot for it.

Neil goes for a run and Kevin stays in bed with Andrew, declaring that runs can only happen if he’s actually awake enough for them. Andrew agrees and pulls him closer underneath the sheets.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valentine's Day fluff

Andrew drives them to Columbia on the night of the 13th. He watches the usual procession of tension leaving Andrew’s shoulders and his mouth, which has a permanent slant to it, looses some of the tightness. This action alone soothes Neil, to see Andrew grow more comfortable. 

Neil turns on the radio to something soft that he can’t identify, but he smiles in Andrew’s direction when he doesn’t move to shut it off. 

Pulling up to the house in Columbia is little more than throwing bags into corners and changing into pajamas before tumbling into bed. Neil sleeps with one hand under the pillow, a habit he took up again after his deal with Ichirou. Andrew doesn’t fall asleep for a while, and Neil’s eyes shut to the image of Andrew looking at him beneath half-lidded eyes. The image of honey colored eyes doesn’t leave him even in the blackness of closed eyelids and brings comfort and familiarity.

They wake up around the same time, Andrew only a little before Neil. They spend a few lazy minutes enjoying the haze of sleep-heavy limbs and clumsy hands on hips and backs. 

Kissing Andrew makes him cotton-headed and slow, his eyelids feel heavier each time he opens them. It’s a feeling that spans across his entire body, a pleasant wave of warmth spreading. 

“Will you take a shower with me?” Neil asks it, breaking from their kiss with tired eyes shut. 

Andrew stares at him a moment, not with any particular emotion, before saying, “Not today.”

Neil accepts this and he kisses Andrew deeply before rolling from bed and towards the bathroom. 

The water is warm and it does little to wake him up. He could take a cold shower, but he thinks he would regret loosing this feeling that fills him. He feels frayed around the edges, coming undone, and for once it’s not because he’s being chased or fading into a different personality. It’s because he feels utterly content. 

Andrew takes Neil’s place in the bathroom when he’s out. Neil digs in the bag he brought for clothes, loose sweatpants and a tank top with gaping wholes on the sides. Andrew had never said it in so many words, but Neil knows that he likes this shirt. 

He lays on the bed after and scrolls through his phone, a few texts from the other Foxes wishing him a happy Valentine’s Day. He replies back various, ‘you too’s. Nicky wishes Neil a “good luck” with winky faces that fill the screen. 

Andrew emerges from the bathroom completely dressed, sweat pants similar to Neil’s own and a loose long-sleeve shirt, not a turtle neck. Andrew is a man of intention, and Neil is glad that this is something Andrew is okay with today. 

Andrew slips easily into the space between the wall and Neil. He settles down against the mattress and tugs Neil’s phone from his hand. He doesn’t throw it - which, Neil thought he would - but reaches over Neil to set it on the bedside table. His eyes drag across Neil’s features in the process. 

The bed is warm with the heat of their bodies and Andrew’s fingertips spreading across his ribs burn. 

Neil keeps his hands at Andrew’s head until Andrew moves him himself. He leads them to his own shoulders, and says, “Here for now.” Neil wraps a hand around Andrew’s bicep, the one not laying against the bed, and another at the base of his shoulder and brushing the pillows. 

Once, Andrew retrieves liquor and ice cream, accompanied by a spoon. They take turns; they take a swig, they offer the spoon back and forth, they kiss.

When they kiss, it’s slow and languished, ones that draw low sounds from his throat. He’s more than warm with the buzz of alcohol in him and Andrew’s touch, but the ice cream soothes him to an agreeable temperature. 

They smoke cigarettes on the porch in the cold, clouds of their breath tangled with the smoke that they breathe out. Again, he’s hot, but soothed by the contrasting cool around him. Their shoulders bump together through their jackets on accident, and then Neil does it on purpose. Andrew doesn’t ask, he just kisses Neil, the corner of his mouth. 

They fall asleep early, a result of tiredness never quite leaving their bodies. They face each other. Andrew has a hand beneath Neil’s shirt to feel for scars - the thing that makes this okay. Their ankles are the only other part of them that touch, crossed together.

Andrew wakes up early and nudges Neil awake with him. 

“We’re going to Walmart,” is the only explanation before Andrew is slipping on his coat and socks, soon after his shoes. Neil follows suit after a moment, awake enough now to move. 

Walking in the doors is all it takes for it to be abundantly clear why Andrew intended on this first thing after waking up. The entire front of the store has clearance chocolate. 

Andrew buys a hefty amount, an amount Neil finds atrocious but doesn’t comment on. Andrew is pleased and Neil is pleased, so it satiates him enough to remain silent. 

Andrew holds his hand while roaming the store for other marked-down sweets.

They spend the 15th of February eating chocolate on the couch, exchanging looks; ones that are promises and not actions because, despite what they may feel stirring, Andrew is intent on eating the chocolate. So they watch TV mindlessly, occasionally checking phones, and more often checking each other. 

They make it through two programs before Andrew moves the chocolates to the floor and hooks a hand in the collar of Neil’s sweater, pulling him closer. 

Andrew tastes like sugar and it’s the kind of awful that makes him feel good, so he doesn’t stop the stupid smile that interrupts the kiss. Andrew makes a sound at Neil, but Neil ignores it and kisses him again.

Andrew kisses a line from Neil’s mouth to his cheek to his temple to his ear and says, “Pick a movie.”

So, after a shared kiss, Neil raises himself from Andrew’s space and picks a movie while Andrew grabs a comforter. Andrew wraps it around the two of them, their shoulders cramped, and Andrew spends the movie pressing kisses to wherever he deems worthy. The shell of his ear, his pulse, his shoulder, that one freckle on his jaw. 

He eats more chocolate and offers some to Neil, whom accepts it from Andrew’s fingers. 

Throughout the movie Andrew moves further into Neil’s space: his head on Neil’s shoulder, his legs draped across Neil’s lap so that he very nearly sits on Neil’s lap, one arm wrapped behind Neil and the other across his front and resting where his other hand meets. 

He presses a few kisses to spots that the new angle offers him and Neil drops one of his own to the crown of Andrew’s head. 

It’s not Valentine’s any more, but Neil says, “Happy Valentine’s Day.” Andrew doesn’t say anything, but he moves his thumb to crush at Neil’s side in response.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> earlslegasked: We can’t keep doing this.” ??

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> asked for kandreil, getting more kandrew??? but i’m thinking about a follow up maybe so actual kandreil to come?. sorry this took so long - a permanent message on all my prompts. nsfw-ish ahead

He feels like he’s on top of the world - which is to say, he’s drinking. He’s been tipsy since shot one, on the edge of happy since two, loose-limbed since three, and hard since four. 

Four, you see, is the magic number, and on the forefront of his mind tonight. It’s the most Kevin’s allowed to drink and still fool around with Andrew. 

It’s a limit that Andrew had decided after weeks of scrutinizing Kevin, and had been finalized by Andrew pulling Kevin down to him. He can still feel the hot breath against his lips before Andrew closed the final distance between them. Four drinks go straight to his dick; it’s hard to tell the difference between the warmth of alcohol in his stomach and the pool of heat from arousal. 

The environment of Eden’s is thrumming with people hooking up already, and it warms Kevin’s blood further. He wets his lips unconsciously and searches for Andrew in the crowd; he never sits still for long. It’s become a distraction of Kevin’s, to watch Andrew fidget - always in a controlled manner, such as smoking or feeling for the knives beneath his armbands, ways that serve more to his character than his habits.

Kevin finds Andrew leaning against an outer wall, drink in his hand and gazing lazily around the room. It’s too crowded for Andrew to meet Kevin’s eyes and Kevin doesn’t expect him to, so he makes a path towards him. 

Andrew notices Kevin’s approach when there’s only a few people separating them, space Kevin makes up quickly. 

Andrew’s honey colored eyes are like snares, glowing hot and drawing Kevin closer. Kevin doesn’t think as he slots himself in front of Andrew, letting his feet take the space between Andrew’s. He goes against what he wants to do because he knows better by now. He wants to kiss Andrew without preamble, and preamble is Andrew’s only game. 

He’s in Andrew’s space, but he pulls back on his heels so they don’t quite touch. It’s a restraint that he’s rewarded for because Andrew reaches a hand out to the front of Kevin’s shirt, finds a grip there. 

“You,” Andrew says, low enough that Kevin strains to hear him, “are annoying. Always wanting attention.” There’s a thrill that goes through his system at the words, always eager for Andrew’s appraisal. 

“Always so,” Andrew narrows his eyes decisively, “eager.” God, Kevin’s so good for Andrew like this. “Come ‘ere.”

Kevin all but sags with relief. His forearm rest against the wall by Andrew’s head and his head falls to Andrew’s height. He doesn’t bother trying to hide what he wants when he’s this close to Andrew, his eyes falling to Andrew’s mouth. 

When Kevin doesn’t move Andrew says, “I thought I said to come here.” Andrew’s hand at his chest crumples Kevin’s shirt and his lips meet Kevin’s. Andrew’s mouth is hot against his. Kevin brings the hand not resting against the wall to Andrew’s neck. 

It’s too loud for either to hear the sounds filtered between them, but occasionally Kevin feels the vibrations at Andrew’s throat. He’s drunk enough to think that maybe he can keep this. He’s aware enough to know he tells himself this every time. 

“We can’t keep doing this.” It comes out in a rush against Andrew’s lips, but only partially against his better judgement. He hates that it makes Andrew pull away, but he knows he has to. 

Andrew isn’t most people; he doesn’t keep his hand crumpled at Kevin’s shirt front, and he doesn’t have confusion written on his face. He lets his hand fall to his side, pulls his head back with a blank look. He doesn’t ask for an explanation, he just waits.

Kevin struggles to find the words he needs, and settles for, “I can’t not have this.” If he were two or three drinks less he might explain more, but this is sufficient; Andrew understands it. 

Kevin thinks he knows Andrew well enough to know that his next words will be something along the lines of telling Kevin that he can’t have this, to understand and forget about it. He doesn’t. 

“You can have this.”

Kevin’s mouth is dry and his head is fumbling to guess at the game behind Andrew’s words. Andrew doesn’t give things away, and this feels a hell of a lot like that. 

“No, no,” Kevin takes a step back because he’s confused now, “I won’t take this from you, I just - I don’t think I can --” Andrew interrupts him.

“You aren’t taking it. I’m giving it to you.” Andrew takes a step forward so that they’re close again. “You don’t have to take it, you just have to say yes.” Andrew waits like that, his eyes heavy on Kevin’s and a promise written in his face. 

“Yes.” He sighs it more than says it, but Andrew can read it. Andrew’s lips are on his again, and Kevin’s blood is singing. His head is screaming. He’s drunk enough to think that maybe he can keep this. He’s aware enough to know that this is his chance to.


End file.
